Finding Comfort
by rhythm-within
Summary: Sam gets stuck with Castiel, fallen and vulnerable


I usually make it a policy to only post one story per fandom but I just really like Supernatural so have some Sastiel.

* * *

Cas was curled up in the arm chair across the room as Sam whispered into his phone.

"He just _showed_ up, Dean. I don't know what to do with him. I don't even think he's an angel anymore…"

Castiel had pounded on Sam's hotel door and promptly passed out on the floor. He had a nasty gash on his left shin but Sam got it sutured up in time to save Cas' life.

"I just don't know. I don't know what to do with him. Can you come get him or something? I can't drag him around on this job—No, no. I understand. Lisa doesn't want anything to do with him—Okay. I guess I'll just…call someone in? All right. Night, Dean."

"I know you don't want me here," Cas croaked from the chair, his eyes still closed.

"It's not that, Cas." Sam felt the guilt stab him in the gut. "I can't take care of you while I'm hunting."

"I can help, Sam. Give me a few days and I can help."

"Cas, I'm in the middle of tracking a werewolf right now…"

"I know. I had a run in with him."

Sam gasped.

"Did he—?"

"No," Cas shook his head. "I fell. Kind of getting used to these legs. They feel like Jell-o, mostly." He laughed as he looked down at his bare feet curled up in the chair, half hidden by Sam's loaned out baggy pants.

"Okay. Well, for now, we'll get some sleep and talk about it in the morning." Sam scratched the back of his shaggy head and cleared his throat, not looking at Cas. "You can sleep in the bed, if you want. You'll sleep better, anyway."

Cas nodded and quietly plodded over to the other side of the single bed.

"You know, just _stay_ on your side." Cas nodded and tucked himself under the sheets.

Sam wasn't even finished brushing his teeth by the time Cas fell asleep.

…

"Why did you _bring_ him here?" Dean hissed, rounding the Impala on his brother. They both knew Cas could hear the conversation but there wasn't much they could do about it.

"I don't know, Dean. I don't know what to do with him. I called in Scott to take of the werewolf in Minnesota but I can't baby sit a _fallen angel_."

"He's not even supposed to be here. I don't know why you _thought_ I'd have the answer, here."

"Yeah, I'm not really sure what I was thinking." Sam looked at his feet before snapping back up to Dean's face. Dean was looking at the Impala's tires. Sam knew he wanted the car, to drive it and take care of everything under the hood but it was tacitly agreed upon that whoever was hunting got to keep the car. Dean was driving a pickup truck at that point but he was already saving up for a station wagon for when the baby came.

"Should…should I take him hunting?"

"Isn't that what he wants?" Dean couldn't look at Sam or at the man slouched inside the car.

"Yeah, I guess…"

"Well, then get on outta here," Dean made a wild gesture with his left arm but he smiled at Sam. Sam felt his heart swell and clench in rapid succession; he wished things hadn't fallen apart like they had but he knew Dean really loved Lisa. How couldn't you? Hell, _Sam_ loved Lisa. She was a great mom and a fun drunk. Sam laughed and patted Dean on the shoulder.

"Take care, man."

"Yeah, you too."

…

"Sam," Cas's voice was gravelly from the seven-hour, self-imposed silence.

"Yeah?" Sam's voice was just as scratchy.

"Can we get drunk?"

They weren't going anywhere in particular.

"Bar or liquor store?"

"Liquor store."

Sam nodded and pulled off the highway when they finally saw a liquor store.

As a human, Castiel was much more of a lightweight than Sam could have imagined. He was sitting on the other twin bed, sort of swaying with his legs crossed on top of the sticky duvet. Sam kind of thought Cas was going to fall over onto his face.

"Whoa there, Cas," he stood up, a little dizzy himself, in an attempt to steady the small man on the bed. "You should probably put down the bottle, man."

"Sam," Cas murmured, his dark eyes lifting to the area right above Sam's pants.

"Cas. Buddy, you need to put down the bottle and go throw up."

"Sam, I miss Dean."

"I know you do. You need to go throw up. Right now."

"Sam, I can't get up."

"I've got you." Sam went to grab his tooth brush, hoping he could help Castiel voluntarily throw up, before bodily heaving Castiel into the bathroom and trying not to unceremoniously dump him on the floor with his head in the toilet bowl.

"Cas, you've got to open up your mouth." Sam could see the layer of sweat breaking out all over Castiel's pale face and the barely perceptible movement of his head shaking no. "Cas, you have to. You have to throw up so you can go to sleep. Castiel squinted his eyes shut tightly and held his breath, possibly wishing Sam away. "Fine."

Sam pinched Castiel's nose, effectively blocking off his air supply and it only took a single second for Cas to visibly panic and gulp big mouthfuls of air through his mouth. Sam moved quickly, not nearly as intoxicated as Cas, and held the man's mouth open. With his other hand, he jammed the plastic bit of the toothbrush into the back of Cas' throat, aiming for the uvula. Cas retched a few times, Sam holding his head back just enough so he wouldn't land his face in the water. Finally, Castiel slumped back, relaxed and obviously feeling better, into Sam.

"Thanks," he muttered, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of a loaned-out shirt.

"Feel better?" Sam asked, making sure Cas was stable enough before Sam stood up and helped Castiel up after him.

"Yes. Thank you." Castiel bent in front of the sink and rinsed his mouth out thoroughly before Sam led him back out to his bed to start pulling the covers back for Cas to get in.

"I really do miss Dean," Cas told him again, sitting on the bed with his shoes scraping the tacky carpet below.

"I know, Cas. Me too. But there isn't much we can do about it. Lisa's _pregnant_. He's not about to leave her any time soon." Sam laughed a little. "I think she'd have his head mounted to the wall if he even so much as _thought_ about it."

"But you're here, Sam."

And Sam's stomach dropped when Castiel's hand gripped the front of Sam's button down right above his belt. He tried to step away, suddenly hyper aware of how small the room was, but Castiel's other hand lashed out like a snake onto Sam's arm.

"Cas, you need to let me go." Sam gritted out, pulling his arm away. Cas let him go but looked down at his feet.

"Don't leave me, Sam. I don't have anywhere else to go."

The earnestness in Castiel's eyes stabbed Sam in the heart and he let his hands come down on Cas' shoulders.

"I know. I'm sorry, Cas. I miss Dean, too. I wish things were different. This is how it is now." He tried to move away but Cas caught him at the elbows and this time Sam didn't try to move away.

"I'm glad you're here, Sam," Castiel continued, moving his hands down to Sam's belt buckle, undoing it with some effort. Sam closed his eyes and let Castiel do what he was doing. He had a moment of feeling flattered that Cas wanted to thank him, though he couldn't seem to understand why he skipped straight to sex until he felt Cas' mouth on him. It was warm and Sam was drunk enough to let it consume him.

"Fuck," Sam felt his knees trying to buckle underneath him when he let his head drop back. His hands slid into Cas' hair and he could feel himself trying to set the pace for Cas without consent. Cas went along with it for a little while but couldn't keep up. He popped off and huffed, trying not to fall over.

"Fuck is right," he muttered, wiping his wet lips on the same sleeve he wiped the vomit away with. Sam didn't say anything; the vomit was dry by then and Cas seemed eager to get back to business.

"Cas," Sam held the other man away from him, "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Yes," but Cas couldn't meet Sam's eyes and Sam knew he was imaging Dean standing there in front of him, smaller in stature and a little easier to reach.

"Okay," Sam let go and Cas was just as ardent as before. It was kind of surprising, really, but it was so good—maybe amplified by the alcohol, but Sam wasn't going to complain. Sam's knees were starting to go weak and he wanted to fall on top of Cas, get all the weight off his legs. So, he let himself go; it was the easiest thing to do. He instantly regretted it, hearing Cas choking and feeling the uncomfortable angles of bones sticking into him as he landed on the other man. In a last ditch attempt to save the situation, he tried to twist away but he went the direction of the headboard and slammed the crown of his skull right into the hard wood. He closed his eyes and laid there on his back, breathing heavily and feeling the cold spit dry on his dick in the stale hotel room. Cas was there next to him, a warm and looming presence. Sam couldn't bring himself to look over at him; he was so afraid he'd never be able to look at him without thinking of exactly this moment—the worst blow job experience in history. Then, Castiel started laughing. Laughing long and loud and from the chest. Sam could feel it vibrate in his arm that was touching Cas' arm.

"What are you laughing about?" Sam asked, slinging his other arm over his eyes in shame.

"You."

Sam could hear the smile in Castiel's voice.

"I'm not mad at you, Sam."

"Good. I'm going to go disappear for a while." Sam tried to rock up and off the bed but Cas caught him. Sam turned to him and saw the smile on his face just before he swooped down for a kiss.

"Just stick around awhile, okay?" Cas' voice was soft.

"Fine."


End file.
